Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

human would have died or been reborn as one of us. She only suffered.”
    â€œYou doctored her,” I said. “You helped her heal. You saved her.”
    Ariana crumpled—and Samuel leaped over all of us and caught her before she hit the floor. Her body was limp, her eyes closed, and the scars were hidden safely behind her glamour again.
    â€œDid I?” Samuel asked, looking down at her with his heart in his eyes. “The scar on the top of her shoulder was one I gave her.”
    Hot damn, I thought, watching him. Hot damn, Charles. I found something for Samuel to live for.
    Samuel had been upstairs with Adam when the fairy queen called to tell us what she was looking for. Silver Borne. The mention of the artifact alone was enough to make it impossible for him to yield to his wolf. But it had been when Zee had called me and Ariana spoke that he’d come back to us.
    â€œYou saved her,” I told him. “And you loved her.”
    â€œShe didn’t know, did she?” said Jesse, sounding as caught up in the story as Ariana had been. “You doctored her up, and she fell for you—and you couldn’t tell her what you were. That’s really romantic, Doc.”
    â€œAnd tragic,” said Zee sourly.
    â€œHow do you know it’s tragic?” sputtered Jesse.
    The old fae scowled and gestured toward Samuel. “I’m not seeing a happy-ever-after ending here, are you?”
    Samuel pulled the fae woman against him. It looked odd, a young man holding a woman who could have been his grandmother indeed. But fae don’t age, they fade. Her grandmotherly appearance was a glamour. The scars were real—but I saw his face and knew that he only cared about the pain they represented.
    â€œEndings are relative,” I said, and Samuel jerked his head up. “I mean, as long as no one is dead, they get the chance to rewrite their endings, don’t you think? Take it from me, Samuel, a little time can heal some awfully big wounds.”
    â€œDid she look healed to you?” he said, and his eyes were the color of winter ice.
    â€œWe’re all alive,” said Zee dryly. “And she didn’t disappear on us—which she still has the magic to do. I’d say you have a chance.”

13

    SAMUEL STARTED TO SAY SOMETHING TO ZEE WHEN the woman he held opened her eyes, which were green again. She gave us all a bewildered look, as if she could not imagine how she’d gotten where she was.
    I knew exactly how she felt.
    As soon as he saw that she was awake, Samuel set her down with careful haste. “I’m sorry, Ari. You were falling . . . I wouldn’t have touched—”
    I had never in my life seen anything like it. Samuel, the son of a Welsh bard, who shared his father’s gift for words, stammering like an infatuated teenager.
    She grabbed Samuel’s sweatshirt and looked up at him in utter astonishment. “Samuel?”
    He stepped away from her, but stopped short of pulling the shirt from her grasp. “I can’t give you space unless you let me go,” he told her.
    â€œSamuel?” she said, and, though it hadn’t caught my notice before, I realized that her voice had changed sometime in the middle of her panic attack, and sounded way too young for the late-middle-age face she wore. It was also lightly accented, some combination of British and Welsh or a related language. “I thought . . . I looked but I never could find you. You just disappeared and left me nothing. Not a shirt or a name.”
    He pulled away again, and this time she let him go. Free, he retreated to the damaged door that separated my office from the garage. “I’m a werewolf.”
    Ariana nodded and took two steps forward. “I did notice that when you killed the hounds who had come for me.” There was a hint of humor in her voice. Good, I thought. Any woman I’d allow to have Samuel would have to have a sense of humor. “The fangs gave it away—or maybe the tail. You saved me again—and then you left, and all I knew was your first name.”
    â€œI scared you,” he said starkly.
    She gave him a half smile, but clenched her hands. “Well, yes. But it seems I scared you worse because you ran away for . . . a very, very long time, Samuel.”
    He looked away from her gaze—the most dominant werewolf in the Tri-Cities, and he couldn’t meet her gaze. Didn’t he see that even if he